


Kiss it Better

by Stilienski



Series: Sterek ficlets [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blame Lonaargh, Derek Hale Takes Care of Stiles Stilinski, Domestic Derek Hale, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, this was supposed to be short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-05-31 22:35:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6490018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stilienski/pseuds/Stilienski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles doesn't know how to deal with the aftermath of the Nogitsune. Derek tries to help.<br/>By letting Stiles punch his cushion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss it Better

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lonaargh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lonaargh/gifts).



> Blame Lonaargh for this.  
> Thanks to [JungleJelly](http://archiveofourown.org/users/JungleJelly/pseuds/JungleJelly) for being the best and sassiest beta ever <3

Everyone had been relieved when it was over. When they won, when they beat the Nogitsune. That’s when everyone had finally been able to sleep soundly again. Everyone but Stiles. Because every night he was still haunted by the nightmares. And he wished that the nightmares were the toughest part. But it’s the moments right after he woke up screaming, those moments were actually the worst.

The moments when he sat up in his bed, covers long since thrown on the floor by his frantic movements during the dream, he was panting, covered in cold sweat, not yet sure if he’d actually woken up. Stiles didn’t even know if he would ever be sure about being awake again. Because in those moments, the feeling of the screaming still lingering in his throat, he felt more helpless and vulnerable and… useless than he’d ever felt.

He’d hoped the nightmares would go away, but they hadn’t yet and Stiles was getting sick of this. He was scared to fall asleep. Instead he’d keep himself up all night with research. Research about more scary things, which – if he thought about it – was probably not going to help the nightmare situation, or the issue of feeling vulnerable and helpless. Because with each monster he discovered, he basically discovered another way to die a slow, painful death. Or worse, for his friends to die a slow, painful death. Even though most of them would be able to handle themselves in a fight, Stiles knew now that werewolves were not even close to the scariest things out there, and – no offense to the werewolf population of this town – they were definitely not the strongest ones.

He’d moved himself to his bed to continue reading up on Wendigos. He was too exhausted at this point so falling asleep was inevitable. The nightmare was inevitable. But at least if he moved to lie in his bed before he fell asleep, he’d spare himself the pain of a sore neck and back.

Of course, before long Stiles’ head sunk deeper into the pillow and the book he’d been holding fell on the floor, his rug silencing the thud . The research he’d been doing was not just to keep himself busy, that’s just what he liked to tell himself. Each night he sought out scarier monsters to learn about. It was plenty of nightmare material. And even dreaming about being chased by these things wouldn’t be as awful as dreaming about this.

Because dreaming about the Nogitsune was too real. He’d lived through that shit, “through” being the keyword here. It wasn’t fair that he had to live through it again and again each and every night. It wasn’t fair that he had to feel himself being controlled over and over again, forced to hurt his friends, his family.

Tonight the victim was Derek. Again. Every single  one of these dreams was a repeat of what had happened before, of what he’d allowed to happen before. And you’d think that knowing what was coming would somehow make it easier to deal with it, but it didn’t. He just had to watch helplessly as his fingers chained up the alpha, as his hands took up the lighter and waved it in front of Derek’s face just to see him flinch. He just had to listen helplessly to the taunts and threats that left his mouth. He could even still smell Derek’s flesh burning, the scent so thick he could almost taste it.

The screams. Derek’s screams woke him up, but only after Stiles had painted his skin with red, blistered stripes.  Derek had been so quiet through the whole thing. But then Stile – no  the Nogitsune – had started describing in agonizing detail how the Hale family must have felt the same, if not a thousand times worse.

Stiles had done that.

He was panting, a sheen of cold sweat covering his forehead and his neck, his hands shaking as they held the pillow to his chest. He was just tired of it, he’d had enough, he was completely done feeling helpless. Weakly , he pushed the pillow off of him and searched for his phone. Stiles had been entertaining the idea of doing this from the moment that firefly got trapped in that mountain ash jar. But his other problem had been holding him back, his silly little teenage problem, the normal problem that wasn’t related to nightmares or monsters or anything supernatural. His stupid silly crush on the stupid Sourwolf he was calling right now.

At… 4 am, fuck. He was just about to hang up when Derek answered the phone with a very sleepy voice that made Stiles wince guiltily.

“Stiles? What…? Are you okay?” The last question was rushed out hastily, concerned . _Well… here goes nothing._

“I’m fine. I need you to train me. I need you to teach me how to fight.”

“What? Now?” Well, now was as good a time as any. He wasn’t going to get more awake and it’s not like he wanted to sleep more anyway.

“Yes.”

“Stiles, are you okay?” There was a different tone to Derek’s voice this time around. Lower, more serious.

So Stiles answered seriously this time. “No… I… I’m not. I’ll be there in 10.” He was sure Derek wasn’t willing to listen to Stiles complaining about his nightmares. And definitely not over the phone.

Stiles found Derek in the loft’s kitchen, just a pair of sweatpants hanging lowly on his hips as he sipped some freshly brewed coffee.  Seeing Derek like that, looking unfairly gorgeous for having just been woken up, Stiles looked down self-consciously at his “workout gear”. A scrappy t-shirt with holes in it and a pair of sweatpants that just looked too large on him and not flattering at all.

“You look awful.” Great, just what he needed to be pointed out, thanks Derek. “Have you slept at all since…?”

“No, not really.” Stiles let out a huff. Derek probably thought he was a weak excuse of a human being already, and he hadn’t even seen Stiles attempt to fight yet.

“Me neither.” Sourwolf said what? The look Derek gave him touched Stiles’ very soul. Concerned, guilty… it felt so wrong to have Derek look at him like that. “I let my guard down again, I thought we’d get a bit of a break after the alpha pack, after Jen- the Darach. We all let our guard down and you paid the pri-“

“Don’t say that. You don’t get to pity me, okay? Not after… no. And what are we even talking about? I didn’t come here to talk about my poor feelings being hurt. I just want you to teach me how to fight so next time something comes for my friends I’m not the helpless fragile thing with a freaking bat.”

Derek frowned, looking like he was about to say something but he never did. He just took another sip of coffee. He poured some into another mug and passed it to Stiles, all in this ridiculously heavy silence. But Stiles couldn’t bring himself to break it. The things he’d said since he’d arrived here hadn’t exactly come out well.

So they drank their coffee and stared at their mugs. Till Derek stood up and went to the living room. And since he’d taken Stiles’ mug to put it in the sink on his way there, Stiles didn’t have a choice but to follow. Derek took a couch cushion, not a throw pillow but one of the cushions that made up the actual seating of the couch.

“Are you going to make me redecorate your living room?”

“Punch it.” Derek said it as if it was obvious that’s what one was supposed to do with a couch cushion. He held it in front of his chest and looked at Stiles expectantly. “You’re going to have to come closer, Stiles.” So Stiles did. “Put your feet apart, shoulders width. Bend your knees slightly. Other than that, don’t worry about your legs too much. They’ll follow along.” Stiles followed Derek’s limited directions, keeping his eyes on the alpha to see if he was doing it right or not.

“Keep your arms up, yes , like a boxer. Now get to punching. Right, right, left , then left, left, right. Put your whole body into it.” Stiles only hesitated 2 seconds. One to think about what the fuck he was thinking when he asked alpha  werewolf Derek Hale — aka mister Grumpy Sourwolf, aka still very much shirtless stupid crush — to teach him how to fight at 4 am. The second to take a breath and do one little bounce on the balls of his feet before he actually started punching.

“That’s it? Harder, Stiles.” Of fucking course. He huffed before he did as he was told. “Come on, harder, faster. I know you’ve got more in you.”

Yeah… Derek knows exactly how much more there was in him. Derek experienced first-hand just what the hell was inside him. The thought of that was enough incentive to push himself harder. Each blow to the cushion a dull thud, each blow louder than the previous one.

Derek made him keep that up till he was about 90% sure he would pass out. At which point he was led to the armchair by gentle hands, which came back only a minute later with a bottle of water.

“Drink up, Stiles.” But Stiles made some vague gesture with his hands to wait because he was still too busy trying to catch his breath. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” Stiles snapped  and stood up. He didn’t come here for Derek to worry about him, he came here so no one ever needed to worry about him again.

Stiles let out a sigh. “Thanks. I should… I should go home. Can we do this again tomorrow? Or later today I guess…”

“Be here at 10 pm.” Derek commanded as he was already walking upstairs, probably going to try to catch some more sleep. So Stiles let himself out.

*****

It became a thing quickly. Every day Stiles would show up at Derek’s loft, with only Sundays being an exception because that was father-son bonding time. For 3 weeks Derek made Stiles beat up that cushion. But Stiles being Stiles, he didn’t think that was interesting enough. So on the Saturday of week three, as he sat in the armchair guzzling down his water, he brought it up.

“You know the chance that I’m ever going to have to defend myself against a couch cushion is practically non-existent, even in this town. I think I’d like a moving, living target to practice with.”

“You want to spar with me?” Derek’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. He probably didn’t even think Stiles would want to keep this training thing up, let alone move it to the next level.

“Yep.”

“Now?” Stiles rolled his eyes.

“No not now, Sourwolf. I’m going to die if I do any more moving.” And always being the surviving type, Stiles let himself fall back into the chair, sinking into a comfortable position.

“Do you… want to watch something?” He’d never stayed for long after he was done hitting cushions. But it suddenly seemed tempting to do just that. He really didn’t want to move anymore. So he only gave a curt nod in response. Derek went through a couple of channels before Stiles perked up at some crime show.

He really thought that he knew how to stay awake by now, but apparently not. Maybe getting really comfortable, taking off his shoes and curling up on the armchair, hadn’t been such a great idea after all. Stiles fell asleep halfway through the episode and woke up the next morning because the sun was shining right into his fac-

He woke up the _next morning_. He’d slept through the night. No nightmares, no dreams, no nothing. Now that thought really shook Stiles awake. That’s when he noticed he’d been carefully covered with a blanket and his head was resting comfortably on a pillow . He sat there  for a couple of minutes trying to not read too much into Derek making sure he was comfortable, but failing miserably.

And Derek walking in the room with two steaming cups of coffee didn’t really help Stiles to not read too much into… whatever was going on. Derek just let out some rumbling sound that may or may not have been “Good morning”, when he gave Stiles a hot mug and turned the TV on again.

Morning cartoons. Stiles was watching morning cartoons with Derek. After he’d slept through the night. Without having any nightmares. Yeah no, that couldn’t be reality, this couldn’t actually be happening. This… whatever it was, was probably going to get real bad, real fast.

“Am I awake?” He’d never be sure of that again… he’d live his whole life wondering if the Nogitsune  had really been defeated or if the thing was still playing mind tricks  on him. And Derek looked at Stiles as if he knew. A frown on his face, his eyes sad… pitying. Stiles would have punched him for that look if he didn’t know his hand would come out worse than Derek’s face or well… if he hadn’t been so scared right now.

“Yeah, you are. Do you want to try to read something?” Derek was already up and getting a book from the shelf in the corner. In the meantime, Stiles counted his fingers with dread. He let out a shaky breath as he got to ten, but he thought he’d better be thorough so he grabbed the book Derek offered him as well, and started reading.

“You’re okay, Stiles. You’re awake.” Derek said, putting a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. He took a couple of deep breaths and tried his hardest to not let the fear get the best of him.

“Okay, I’m just… I’m going to go to the bathroom real quick.”

He needed some time to just breathe . He paced around the upstairs bathroom, trying to ignore his mind telling him that Derek would hear it. Or maybe his freaky werewolf senses could even smell his anxiety right now, or hear his frantic heartbeat. No wonder Derek was always so concerned. No wonder he looked Stiles over so worriedly every time he thought Stiles wasn’t looking. Derek noticed _everything_ about him. Which did exactly nothing to calm Stiles down.

He stopped his pacing and went to the sink to splash some water on his face. In the mirror he saw himself, water dripping down his face, but he didn’t look so… sick anymore. For the first time since that thing showed up in his head he didn’t look too pale or too tired.

“Okay, champ, you can do this. You’re going to have to do this. You’re going to go out there and just fucking live through the day. There’s coffee and cartoons. And after the cartoons you go home, do that assignment for English you’ve been procrastinating on and then you laze around for the rest of the day with your dad. Your dad who doesn’t even know where you are because you didn’t let him know you were staying the night anywhere else- oh shit!” He felt around in his pockets, hoping to find his phone, while noticing he really fucking stank. He hadn’t even showered last night, ugh.

“Derek!” He called as he rushed out of the bathroom. “Where’s my phone? My dad is going to be worried sick! Shit!” And… down the stairs he fell. Derek stood there by the couch, Stiles’ phone in his hand, looking shocked at the boy laying at the bottom of his staircase. The boy who let out a pitiful “auwtch ” as he grabbed his butt. That’s when Derek came over and helped him up.

“You okay?” That freaking frown. Okay, Stiles was definitely standing too close to the guy his stupid teenage self had decided to get a crush on.

“Well, your stairs didn’t kill me, but I’m sure my dad will finish the job. Ugh…”

“I called your dad last night. Let him know you fell asleep here. Which… would have been a lot less awkward if he’d known you were coming over every day to train.” Okay, Stiles knew that frown, frown number 5, accusing while also adorably confuzzled. They sat down again, Derek on the couch, Stiles on the armchair.

“Sorry about that. I just… didn’t think it was the best idea to tell him I was learning to fight. That would have worried the shit out of him. And he keeps worrying about me. About the nightmares, about the not sleeping at all, about not hanging out with my friends anymore…. So I thought it would be easier to just tell him I was going to Scott’s.” Stiles admitted sheepishly before he started drinking his coffee.

“Okay, I get that, just… please don’t come back here before your dad, the sheriff, who owns a gun – which he pointed out quite a few times during that call last night – knows I’m not having sex with his underage son. Because I really don’t like being shot.” Stiles nearly choked on his coffee.

“Oh my god. He thought you were… with me…? He thought that we were… doing the dirty… together… every fucking night? Oh. My. God.” Oh no, frown number 11, hurt and confuzzled. Wait, hurt? “I mean, not that I wouldn’t… you know. It’s just that… in what universe? Huh? Am I right?”

Hot, hot, hot, the coffee was way too hot to drink it all down in one go.  But Stiles was a (storm)trooper so he pushed it all down before he stood up in a rush. “Okidoki, great coffee. Thanks for letting me punch your cushion last night. That… didn’t sound wrong at all. I really have to go. English assignment and all that jazz. Right. It was fun. I’ll see you tomorrow, same time, right?” He rambled as he rushed off, taking his phone from the coffee table on his way to the door.

*****

The conversation with his dad was… very awkward to say the least. First of all trying to convince his dad that he wasn’t sleeping with Derek. And then trying to explain why he wanted to learn how to fight. Which got way too emotional and since neither Stiles nor his dad were very comfortable talking about their feelings and shit, it was just… well, it was probably the worst conversation he’d ever had with his dad. And he wished he could erase it from his memory.

Less awkward, and actually kind of fun, was the sparring with Derek. Unlike the cushion pushing Stiles mainly kept up just to tire himself out in the hopes of being too tired to even have a nightmare, which never really worked. Apart from that one time in Derek’s loft of course. Which he hadn’t forgotten about yet. All the other times he’d slept – he’d love to just say “all the other nights” but that wouldn’t be true, he still slept as little as humanly possible – he’d woken up screaming. But now the SATs were coming up and he’d just really like a night’s sleep every now and then. So this Friday, before he went to Derek’s place, he had to pump himself up a bit. And he made an overnight bag as well, but he planned to keep it in the car so Derek wouldn’t think he was making assumptions and wanting to take advantage of him or anything.

Luckily for Stiles, Derek and him had been getting a bit more friendly during the last couple of months. Stiles could barely believe Derek hadn’t kicked him out yet during those 2 and a half months. They… _talked_ to each other these days. Actual conversations. About whatever. Small talk. Small talk with Derek Hale, imagine that.

“Hey, man. How did that interview go?” Stiles asked as soon as he closed the door of the loft behind him.

“No idea, they said they’d call me back but I don’t know. We’ll see.”

“No offense, dude, but I hope they say no You’d be better off starting up a business of your own. Be your own boss, determine your own hours. You’re good at this shit, I mean, you got me in shape. Coach has been trying to do that for year s and gotten nowhere; you did it in 2 months.”

“Stiles, just because I may be an okay personal trainer doesn’t mean I can do this on my own. I don’t know anything about business.” Stiles rolled his eyes while they moved the furniture out of the way a little bit.

“I told you I’d help. I owe you for all the time you put into me . You never asked for a dime, which you could have and probably should have.”

“Fine, 12 bucks an hour from now on, Stiles.”

“Nope, we’ve come to an agreement about this at the start of the arrangement. You train me and don’t laugh at me and I let you win every single time and won’t tell anyone about your secret love for the Notebook.” Derek rolled his eyes at that.

“I’m a sucker for romance, sue me.” And then he took his shirt off. It’s not that Stiles wasn’t prepared for that, it happened every single time.

“Yeah, you’re clearly the romantic type. Seriously, man, what’s so uncomfortable about your shirt?” Stiles had been too busy ignoring the lack of shirt during their previous sessions, but he’d been meaning to bring it up for quite some time now. But by doing that, Stiles was toeing a very fine line between thinking about Derek shirtless just enough to stay on topic or thinking about it too much and get distracted.

“Nothing, I just don’t want to have to wash it out. I told you I hate doing laundry. Now come one .” And so the game of swinging fists at each other and ducking started. The sparring had gotten even more fun with Derek getting a little bit more talkative each time. It had started as a way to spur Stiles on, but Stiles was convinced that just talking more, even if it was only little things during their sparring, had helped Derek to open up a bit.

“No one likes doing laundry, that doesn’t mean we all get a free pass at walking around naked all the time.” Stiles threw a light punch, aiming for Derek’s shoulder but Derek had no issue dodging it. Obviously Derek being a werewolf he had to hold back a lot during these training evenings. And hurting each other wasn’t the point of sparring anyway. It was just to help Stiles see where his defense had some flaws and teach him how to get past someone else’s defense. It was all friendly, all fun and games. Not that Stiles never  went home with a bruise.

“Maybe I was just being nice, Stiles, I think you’re actually the one who told me that being too honest isn’t very polite in everyday conversation.” Okay, fine, he went home with loads of bruises all the time, because he kind of sucked at this. But this early into the evening, really? Derek had no issue punching Stiles in his shoulder and yep, that was definitely going to bruise.

“Aww, you remembered that! So come on, spit it out. Why do you always do this shirtless? Are you trying to woo me? Impress me? Because let me tell you right now, you’re already impressive with a shirt on. Every guy would be jealous of those shoulders and arms and pecs and…” Derek lifted his eyebrows and smirked, and dang it, that shit was distracting.

“Oh please don’t stop now, Stiles , seems to me you’ve spent a lot of time looking at me.” Stiles tried to punch again, aiming for Derek’s jaw this time because of what he just said, and because he knew Derek would totally be able to dodge that punch. But instead, Derek grabbed his hand and pulled Stiles towards him, grabbing him in a headlock along the way.  Which was no fun. No fun whatsoever. Being pressed against Derek’s very naked and very attractive, incredibly solid and strong chest was no fun at all. Seriously, the lack of fun in this situation was so incredibly profound.

“For fuck’s sake.” Stiles muttered, knowing he probably wouldn’t be able to get out of this. He tried anyway, grabbing the arm around his neck with both of his hands and tugging. He didn’t want to give up on the conversation though. “Don’t be like that, Derek! Don’t change the topic. Why the lack of shirt?”

“Are you sure you want the truth, Stiles? Maybe I’m trying to spare your feelings.” Stiles rolled his eyes at that, which Derek probably didn’t even see. “Stiles, the reason I don’t wear a shirt, is so I can feel it, so I can notice the rare occasions when your little fists manage to touch me.” He whispered it way too close to Stiles’ ear, which would have been distracting, but Stiles finally had an idea on how to get out of Derek’s hold. So, no, Stiles wouldn’t let himself get distracted by Derek’s hot breath ghosting over his cheek. He just placed one of his hands higher up Derek’s arm, closer to his shoulder.

“That was just mean, Sourwolf, you could have taken the opportunity to whisper some sweet nothings in my ear.” Even though he knew Derek couldn’t see it, he threw in a pout just for good measure. “But instead you decide you’d rather hurt my feelings.” Stiles said a quick mental goodbye to the wonderful feeling of Derek’s hot, hot, hot chest against his back before he made his genius ninja move. Stiles got his fingers underneath Derek’s armpit and tickled him, while punching Derek in the gut with his elbow. _(sidenote: Stiles did think about how much it would hurt to hit such rock hard abs with his elbow, but it turned out fine. Stiles’ elbow is fine.)_

Derek immediately let go and let out a totally very manly and tough – Stiles couldn’t believe that Derek’s voice even went that high – shriek. While Stiles doubled over laughing, Derek gave him a look of pure and utter betrayal.

“Did you just tickle me? Did you just actually tickle me? Seriously, Stiles?” He screamed out indignantly.

“Oh my god! That shriek!” Stiles managed to get out in between fits of laughter, but Derek pushed him over to the floor. “I can ’t believe I found your weakness! You can’t handle my nimble fingers, oh my god! If the pack hears about this!”

“Don’t! I swear to god, Stiles, if Erica finds out about this I’m going to rip-“

“Yeah, yeah, rip my throat out with your teeth, you need some new threats, Sourwolf.” Derek grumbled something in response but after that they just went back to sparring.

Till Stiles was so out of breath he couldn’t even sass Derek anymore. Derek dragged all the furniture back to their proper spots and Stiles dragged himself to fall onto something soft, preferably his armchair.

When Derek came back with two bottles of water Stiles realized he still had to ask if he could try and sleep here, which was hopefully not going to be as awkward as he’d imagined it being. He should probably wait till Derek turned on the TV so there was always some background noise to fall back on if this conversation went sideways.

“Oh, Titanic!” Stiles remarked before Derek could change the channel again.

“Do we have to watch that?”

“What’s wrong with Titanic? It’s a romantic movie, I thought you were all about that romance?”

“But Jack dies…” _oh my god… tough alpha werewolf my ass, Derek is a freaking teddy bear filled with marshmallow fluff._ He didn’t even change channels again even though he obviously didn’t like the movie very much.

“Hey, Derek, can I ask you a favour?” _here goes nothing_.

“Sure.”

“You know that time I fell asleep here and you had to call my dad and it was kind of awkward for all of us… I guess you do remember that, because as much as I’ve tried I can’t forget it.” Stiles cringed at the memory of the talk with his dad. “Anyway… that was the last time I had a proper night’s sleep… And I… I guess I’m kind of getting used to the nightmares by now.” Well, that was a big fat lie if he ever told one. “But the SATs are coming up and I just… I could use some sleep. And I’m grasping at straws here, man, I don’t even know if that night was just a one-time miracle but-“

“Yeah, of course you can stay, Stiles, no problem.” After all the doom scenarios Stiles had come up with, he hadn’t even thought about it actually turning out okay.

“Seriously? Oh my god, you’re the best, dude, thank you so much!”

“It’s fine. As long as I’m not going to get an angry call from your dad.”

“No, I already asked him if it was okay, he begrudgingly agreed that I could use some sleep if I want to get decent grades.” Derek nodded but after that it was quiet for a while.

“Stiles, I thought you were doing okay. You seemed… better.”

“I am. Just not… great yet. I’ll be fine, don’t worry about it.” Stiles quickly dismissed the topic, or so he thought.

“I know you hate talking about this, but at some point you’re going to have to. You can’t keep bottling it up and just deal with it all alone.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. Everyone knows what kind of shit I did. And it’s not going to help anyone if I start complaining now. It’s just going to make people more worried and I do-“

“It’s going to help _you_. I get that you’re not in the mood for this right now, so I’ll stop bothering you about it, but… when you are in the mood, I… we don’t have to just fight all the time.” Stiles just stared at him, trying to think of something to say to that. Trying to think of anything at all to say.

“I… I don’t….” _I don’t want to talk about this, ever._ He let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “I know I should but… I don’t…. okay.”

“Okay.” They started paying attention to the movie again, the conversation was clearly over. But right before the end, Derek stood up. He was totally going to avoid the scene where Jack dies.

“I’ll get you a blanket and a pillow. You can have some of my clothes to sleep in, I’ll put them in the bathroom for you, and there should be a spare toothbrush somewhere as well. Do you need anything else?” Should he go back to his car and get his overnight bag or should he grab this opportunity to see what a boyfriend shirt felt like to sleep in?

“Nope, nothing else, thanks again, Sourwolf.” 

He slept like a princess again. The couch was surprisingly comfortable to sleep on and even if it somehow hadn’t been, if Stiles could sleep through an entire night, he was totally willing to risk waking up with a sore back in the morning. If it hadn’t happened before and if the ability to sleep through the night wasn’t what made Stiles sleep on Derek’s couch in the first place, he would have totally believed he was dreaming. Over the last months he’d slowly started to accept that he’d never be sure of reality again, but he’d have to live anyway. Even if it wasn’t real, he appeared to be somewhat in control, so if he lived the life he wanted, he’d get a good dream out of it, right? Okay, maybe that logic wasn’t so logical, but it was better than nothing.

Just like last time, Derek came walking in looking groggy and carrying 2 mugs filled with coffee. He handed Stiles one and sat down next to him on the couch, looking at him expectantly. So Stiles moved to take a sip, only to notice that the mug wasn’t the plain IKEA mug he’d gotten used to seeing around here. Someone had taken a sharpie to it.

**You’re awake**   
**and if you’re not really**   
**I’m extra strong.**

His jaw dropped in surprise and his heart did a _thing_. A very warm-feeling, giddy thing. Derek had ruined a mug for him. Derek knew what he worried about the most and he was doing everything he could to make Stiles feel less worried about it. Teddy bear filled with marshmallow fluff… there was no other explanation.

Stiles couldn’t do much more than utter a heartfelt “Thank you.” To which he got an unintelligible grumble in response, accompanied by a curt nod and an almost-there smile. Okay, so Derek wasn’t a talker in the mornings. That was fine. They could just sit there, watch morning cartoons and be freaking _domestic_ in silence, that was all fine for Stiles.

They lazed around on the couch all morning. At some point Stiles got up to make them both some breakfast but that was it.

“So, was it just for one night or are you staying till you’ve had that SAT thing?”

“I don’t know… I… can I stay the weekend? I don’t want to be in your way or anything, I just… you have no idea how good it feels to just be able to sleep.”

“You can stay as long as you want to. Definitely if you make me breakfast every morning. These eggs are good.”

*****

So Stiles did, he stayed the weekend at Derek’s and aced his tests. If he was being honest it wasn’t even just because he’d managed to sleep properly that he liked that weekend. Spending time with Derek was fun, comfortable, nice and surprisingly easy. Derek took care of him. Which was ridiculous because this all started with Stiles not wanting to be taken care of by anyone. But Derek did it with the little things. He did it subtly. In a way Stiles wouldn’t be able to tell him to stop.

When Stiles was studying, Derek brought him coffee every couple of hours, always bringing some for himself as well. He sat with Stiles and read a book, being quiet enough not to annoy Stiles, but sipping his coffee, turning the pages every now and again, just so Stiles could hear – without having to look up, because the sight would surely distract him – he was still there.

He made sure Stiles didn’t forget to take his meds, Derek put them right there on the kitchen counter every morning, where he knew Stiles would find them when he went to make breakfast. And when he saw Stiles getting fidgety he asked Stiles to come shopping for groceries with him.

So of course, after that one weekend Stiles kept finding excuses to stay the next weekend and the one after that and the one after that.

“Econ test on Monday.”

Or

“I totally forgot about this book report  we had to hand in, and you’ve got great books here.”

Or

“Important lacrosse game next week.” He announced just as he managed to block a punch Derek threw at him.

“Did you make first line?” Derek was way too surprised, that was just insulting.

“No, but if 6 players get badly injured I’ll need to go on the field. I’ve got to be ready for that, Derek. You can’t just expect all the first line players to survive till that game.”

“Right, of course.” Stiles dodged a punch that otherwise would have hit him on his jaw. “You know you could just say you need some sleep, right? People need sleep, even if they don’t have important things coming up in the near future.”

“There’s a game coming up, Derek.” He snapped back.

“I heard you. I’m just saying that you can stay here whenever you want. I don’t mind. I don’t want you to think that you have to make excuses. You shouldn’t have to deal with these nightmares all the ti-“

“Oh come on, I just need sleep, Derek. I can handle the nightmares.”

“It’s okay if you can’t-“ For the first time Stiles kicked at Derek with the intent to hurt.

“What do you want me to say, Derek?” He kicked again, slightly higher this time and Derek didn’t stop him. His foot collided with Derek’s side. “Do you want me to admit it?” He punched and hit Derek in the chest. “Do you want me to say that I can’t handle it?” Another hit to Derek’s abdomen. “That I’m afraid to sleep?” A knee to Derek’s gut. “That I cry every time I wake up?” He pushed Derek away from him. “That I’m weak?” He hooked a foot behind Derek’s leg and made him topple over.

“Is that what you want? Do you just want me to admit that I’m the weak fucker who let everyone around me get hurt? Do you want me to admit that it was all my fault? Do you want me to admit that after all of that I can’t deal with doing it all again and again and again every fucking night? I deserve to relive it every night! I don’t deserve these weekends of nothing! I was too weak to protect the people around me and now I’m too weak to handle the fucking consequences that I fucking deserve! Is that what you wanted to hea-“ Derek finally surged up from the floor and grabbed Stiles tight. Just holding him to his chest.

“It’s okay.” _It’s okay? Okay?_ Stiles’ brain couldn’t process this. He couldn’t process what had posses- nope, wrong word choice – come over him, why he decided that beating up an alpha werewolf would be a good course of action. He couldn’t process the hug he was being pulled into. And he definitely couldn’t process why he was sobbing and crying and fuck it.

“It’s okay, Stiles.” Derek  arms felt so good and safe around him. But…

“It’s not. I’m sorry. I-I’m sorry f-for hurting you. For sa-aying all that sh-shit. About your f-family and the fi-ire. I’m s-sorry.” He was fully relying on Derek’s werewolf senses to make out the words between the sobs.

“It wasn’t you. It wasn’t your fault. It’s okay, you’re okay.”

Stiles doesn’t know how much time he spent crying and holding on to Derek for dear life, but it felt like forever but also no time at all. Afterwards, Derek just got them both some water and they settled on the couch to watch some quiz on TV. Derek never mentioned it again.

And Stiles just loved him a little bit more for it.

*****

After spending all those Friday and Saturday nights at Derek’s, his dad started to have some questions of course, but-

“For the last time, dad, Derek Hale is not fucking my underage ass! Even if he wanted to he probably couldn’t because you won’t get the fuck out of it!”

“Language!”

So yes, all was back to normal. Stiles wasn’t quite as sleep deprived anymore but he was getting more and more attracted to a certain sparring partner. Even though he thought that wasn’t possible. But, unlike Stiles’ usual habit of being too obvious about everything, he actually managed to keep this problem to himself quite well . It was probably the self-preservation kicking in because he realized – of course he realized – that Derek was way out of his league, and simply impossible to ever actually get anywhere with.

Hiding his crush became a lot harder one Friday night when things… well… got a little weird.

They were just sparring, like every other Friday night started, but somehow Derek seemed to be so much… closer this time. There was a lot less punching and kicking involved and a lot more grabbing and holding. And it made Stiles very confuzzled.

“You’ve become a lot stronger.” Derek whispered as he held Stiles in a headlock again. At which point Stiles stopped struggling altogether because.

“What the actual fuck?”

“Just saying that you’ve made a lot of progress. You’re getting good at this.” Okay, he’d take that compliment… and totally look at it shrivel to nothing as he tried for a high kick and Derek just grabbed onto his leg.

“Really? You think I could tire you out?”  He leaned towards Derek, not sure how to go from there if the alpha wouldn’t  let go of Stiles’ leg soon.

“Sure, someday you could tire me out.” Derek leaned in closer as well, a lot closer, if he moved 1 more inch forward their noses would be touching. “Maybe even make me work up a sweat.” Derek leaned in one more inch. “At least I’d like to see you try.” _His eyes are even prettier up close like this_. They could totally be kissing right now, if Stiles could just bring up the courage to lean in just a little bit more then their lips would touch and it would be wonderful. Why were they always fighting anyway? Stiles didn’t like being a fighter, Stiles wanted to be a loverrrrr.

Derek let go of his leg but Stiles was so not ready to continue this… thing yet. He had to work out what their innocent sparring had turned into all of a sudden. Was this Derek being… flirty? If it was then it was slightly on the creepy side and a lot on the weird side and it had come crashing in very much out of nowhere. And if it was flirting then why? Why now? Why like this? Why with Stiles? Why not just ask him out? Why hadn’t Stiles ever made the first move anyway? Why was he still questioning this if it was flirting, he should be rolling with it. Roll with it till he could roll around the sheets with Derek  …. Great plan.

So by a stroke of luck – and maybe because Derek knew what he wanted to do and just totally let him – Stiles managed to drag Derek towards him and twist his arm behind his back.

“You know, Derek, I really like this.” Derek tried to wriggle free, but obviously he wasn’t trying too hard. Stiles jumped on his back instead.

“What? Tell me what you like.” Okay, either this was flirting or Derek had a severe concussion and just didn’t know what the hell he was saying. And seeing as Derek was a werewolf with awesome healing powers….

“I like this, sparring with you. Never bores me.” Stiles didn’t know how Derek did it, but he managed to flip Stiles over his shoulder. So Stiles went from clinging to Derek’s back to clinging to Derek’s front. His legs around Derek’s hips and his arms around Derek’s neck.

“I’m enjoying it too.” Derek breathed out, keeping constant, dizzying eye contact .

“I like it even more than when I was punching your cushion. Though I liked that too, punching your cushion every night for 3 weeks. Made for a good build-up .” Stiles touched their noses together .

“Good build-ups  are important.” Derek agreed. And at this point, none of them were even fighting anymore, or pretending to fight. Derek was just carrying Stiles really.

“But too much build-up  can lead to frustration, or confusion. Like, is this a build-up to something? Or is this just going nowhere?” Their lips were barely millimetres  apart.

“Fuck it.” Derek muttered and then the millimetres were gone. Their lips were touching. Derek was kissing him. Derek was actually kissing Stiles. Stiles was being kissed by Derek. Derek sat down on the couch, Stiles now seated on his lap. As if they were planning on doing this, the kissing – the kissing that was actually really happening – for a long time.

“This whole place smells like you, except for my bed. Every night you’re not here I sleep on this couch because it smells like us. And you…” He kissed Stiles again. “When you walked in here you were wearing _my_ _shirt_.” He was practically growling by now. “I gave you that _weeks_ ago and you still have it. You wore that thing to school today, Isaac was so confused.” Another kiss. “You fucking _reek_ of me.”

“And all this time you’ve been _looking_ at me with those ridiculous eyes, as if you didn’t know I noticed it . As if you thought I couldn’t hear your heartbeat. But you… you were so…” Derek finally slowed down and let out a freaking whine. “You were so _hurt_ … and I didn’t know how to help you. But when you’re here you can sleep and you don’t have those nightmares and you’re happy. So happy it’s contagious.”

“You fucker!” Stiles grabbed a hold of Derek’s hair and took initiative for once . “You let me fucking crush on you for _months_ and you never said anything about it. I thought you-“ Why couldn’t they stop kissing so Stiles could finally be pissed off at Derek for putting him through this. “For all I knew you were straight. And Danny told me never to fall for the straight guys but I went and did it anyway. I was so freaking sure you were going to be Lydia all over again.”

“But then there you were, taking _care_ of me. Like a freaking domestic _god_. And I thought I’d lost it when you finally started to open up to me and just _talk_.” Derek was being gracious and keeping the kissing to Stiles’ neck so he could keep talking. “I came here to… I don’t even know anymore, you were supposed to teach me how to defend myself and you end up making me _talk_. You made me deal with some of that shit and who knew you’d turn out to be such a freaking teddy bear. All romantic and ugh…”

After all the nightmares, Stiles had been convinced there was nothing better than sleeping on Derek’s couch.

It turns out that sleeping in Derek’s bed with Derek’s arms wrapped around him is actually a lot more comfortable.  


End file.
